


the five stages of grief

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Character Death, Drinking, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Self-Harm, Survivor Guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2021-02-13 14:40:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21495922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: This is re-posted from my other account that im deleting!
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18





	the five stages of grief

**Author's Note:**

> This is re-posted from my other account that im deleting!

_according to the psychiatrist elisabeth kübler-ross, there are five stages of grief. in order, they are: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. _

* * *

**1\. denial**

he didn’t, no, he _couldn’t _believe it. he refused to believe it, even though he saw it with his own two eyes. he watched it, as the light _literally left _cas’ eyes, as blood trickled out of the wound, where lucifer had stabbed him.

cas was coming back. he would be back. he always came back. he would come back this time, too. right?

right?

_please come back._

he was alone in the car. sam was chopping down trees. hunters funeral. that’s what cas deserved.

_he deserves to be alive. _

_he’s gonna come back. he will. _

he got out of the car and slammed the door. sam looked up and dropped the axe. he saw the look dean had.

“he’s coming back, sam. he’s gonna come back.” sam wanted to argue, but when he saw the look, the look of pure desperation in his brother’s eyes, suddenly any words in contrary died on his lips.

_( somewhere inside him knew cas wasn’t coming back. not this time.) _

**2\. anger**

he felt angry, a hot, boiling rage coiled around his heart, whenever he saw the boy. jack. the son of the fucking devil and sam wanted to keep him as a housepet.

it was his fault cas was dead.

_(or at least, that’s what he told himself at night, because sometimes, just sometimes, when sleep was hard to come by and he was on the brink of passing out, he swore he saw traces of cas in jack’s features.) _

it was two am and he couldn’t sleep. books were scattered around him, books full of magic and lore and anything else he thought could help.

he threw the book in his hands, a pained yell leaving his throat. he clawed at his face. all his emotions. all his pain, anger, sorrow, all of it was wrapped up in the sob that ripped from his chest as he shoved the table away from him and slid down the wall.

he was upset. he was angry. at jack. at sam, at lucifer. at himself. himself because he should’ve acted quicker. he should’ve known lucifer wouldn’t go down that easy. and now, because of him, cas was dead, and mom was just as good.

_(he refused to admit the other reason he was angry. he was angry at himself for not telling cas sooner. the words ‘i love you’ not leaving his mouth sooner. now he’d never get the chance to hold the angel between his arms again.) _

  
**3\. bargaining**

“please, there has to be _something _you can do.” he was practically begging, by now. rowena gave him a pitying look, and he wanted to punch her in the face. he didn’t want her pity.

_he wanted cas back. _

“i’m sorry dear. but i don’t know of _any _magic capable of raising angels. i’m sorry.” he waved off her apology. apologies wouldn’t bring cas back.

“try god. he’s put cas back together once. he can do it again.” and she left, sharing a look with sam when they thought he wasn’t looking. he saw. but he didn’t care. god. he could ask god.

he walked to his room, past sam, who tried talking to him, but stopped short because he knew dean wasn’t listening. jack inched away from him when he walked past him in the hall. the kid was scared of him. as he should be.

_(“he’s not getting any better.” jack whispered, and sam nodded, the sigh leaving his chest heavy with emotion. jack didn’t quite understand what had gone on between his father and dean, but from what he did know, he finally understood why dean looked at him the way he did.) _

he sat on his bed and straightened his back. his eyes fell shut. for the first time in weeks, he felt hope in his chest.

_god. chuck. it’s me. dean winchester. _

for a moment he paused, and cracked an eye open to look around the room. no chuck. he shook his head, it was going to work.

_(because he didn’t know what to do if it didn’t.) _

_i need your help. we need your help. cas is gone. we need you to bring him back. _

he paused, but he couldn’t hold it back.

_i need you to bring him back. _

and so he waited. he waited for an answer. he sat on the bed, hands still clasped in his lap, and waited.

(_ and he was still waiting, because god was gone. and so was cas.) _

**4\. depression **

he knew sam and jack were worried. but he couldn’t bring himself to care. he couldn’t even bring himself to leave his room. too many things in the bunker reminded him of cas. the kitchen, where they spent so many nights talking together over a bottle of beer. the library, where they spent so much time reading lore together. no matter where he went in the bunker, he couldn’t stop thinking about cas. the time he spent with cas. the things he did with cas. he wanted to listen to music, to get his mind off of cas, but everytime he turned on his playlist, a song that reminded him of the angel would play.

_(it didn’t help that the only playlist he could bring himself to listen to had all of cas’ favourite songs on it.) _

he kicked another bottle to the side, laying down on the bed. sam had tried to help him, tried to get him up and out of his room, and he was grateful for it, but he couldn’t. he didn’t want to hunt, he didn’t want to research, he didn’t want to do anything he usually found pleasure in doing, because what was the point, when he didn’t have cas there to share the time with?

he found solace in drinking, drinking until he was shitfaced enough to fall asleep. when he finally woke up, the next morning, he’d walk down the hall to the kitchen to get another six pack of beer, enough to last him another day in his room, and sam would ask him how he slept. he would tell him he slept fine, and sam would nod into his coffee. both of them knew they were lying, but neither of them said anything.

_(he wasn’t sleeping ‘fine.’ every night was plagued with nightmares. every time he closed his eyes, cas’ face would appear. and he’d see it all over again. the bright light shining from cas’ eyes as he died, his body thumping to the ground and a smiling lucifer behind him. those were the better nights, when all he had to do was relive the day. the bad ones were the times when cas would be there, burnt out eyes, and a blooded shirt. he’d hear cas’ voice, telling him that it was his fault. telling him that he failed him. those were the nights he woke up, tears streaming down his face, and would drink another three beers before he could fall back asleep again.) _

**5\. acceptance **

he was coping. he could go through the day without the surge of emotion pouring through him whenever he saw something that reminded him of cas. maybe he was numbed to it now, that could be it. now, it was just a dull ache in his chest, a reminder of what once was, and what could have been.

he and sam and jack, the little family. he had grown fond of the kid, protective of him. he was innocent, and so much like cas. the way he responded to things he didn’t understand, that same confused look cas would always get. it was something that made his heart swell with love.

he still missed cas, everyday he missed the angel’s presence, but he could make it. he could keep going, and making it to tomorrow was all that mattered. that’s what cas would want. he would want dean to keep going. and he been would damned if he wasn’t gonna make cas proud.


End file.
